


Hinata Shouyou and his Harem of Pretty Setters

by justafujoshi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Haikyuu!! Chapter 402: Final Chapter: Challengers Spoilers, Harems, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Haikyuu!! Chapter 402: Final Chapter: Challengers, Spoilers, everybody loves Hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justafujoshi/pseuds/justafujoshi
Summary: Everyone who has met Hinata Shouyou knows that he gets along with literally everyone. But for some reason, he has the setters in particular—especially the pretty ones— wrapped around his finger, much to the frustration of their significant others.Alternatively titled: Hinata accidentally cockblocks his friends.1: kuroken2: bokuaka3: iwaoi4: sakuatsu
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou & Everyone, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 48
Kudos: 724
Collections: BokuAka Week





	1. Kozume Kenma (ft. Kuroo Tetsurou)

**Author's Note:**

> Haikyuu has ended, and I really don’t know what to do with my feels, so I’m dumping them all on ao3. Really couldn’t have asked for a better ending *wipes away tears*.
> 
> Also, in case you missed the tags: THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS. you have been warned.
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy this idiotic headcanon that I somehow managed to put into words.

  
Tetsurou is tired.

It’s been a long day—no, a long _week_ at work. He’s just got off a three-hour long meeting with a representative from one of the volleyball association’s sponsors— who is a giant dick, he might add. All he wants right now is to curl up with his boyfriend and sleep the stress away.

Except that his boyfriend isn’t home, according to the housekeeper.

“He will be back at around midnight, Kuroo-san,” she tells him.

Tetsurou thanks her politely and leaves her to do her job, but his brain is whirring in confusion. Friday is their designated date night, and unless Tetsurou has to work overtime, they usually spend it at Kenma’s house with whatever delivery they fancy that night. Occasionally, they will venture out to a restaurant, but Kenma is too much of a homebody to bother to leave home, much less leave and return at _midnight._

Tetsurou frees himself of his suit jacket and dress shirt, and pulls out his phone to checks their chat in case he’d somehow forgotten. Nope, nothing. He decides to just call him.

“Hello?” Kenma’s voice is staticky with the cacophony of background noise present.

“Where are you?” Tetsurou winces when it comes out too aggressive. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me you’d be out?”

“Oh, sorry…I’m at Narita airport. Shouyou’s back,” Kenma says, as if he’s just going to a convenience store rather than pick up a long-time friend. “He should be out any minute. Talk later.”

“Oi Ken—” the call cuts without so much of a goodbye. Tetsurou stares dumbly at his phone, his tired brain struggling to keep up.

Regardless of their foiled date night, Kenma is excited that Hinata Shouyou is back, and thus Tetsurou is too, on principle. He decides that he wouldn’t mind sharing Kenma for one night, and heads over to the master bedroom to catch up on much-needed sleep.

It turns out to be more than just a night.

Hinata is freshly back from his three-year Beach stint in Brazil, and is thus without an accommodation in Tokyo. Kenma, being the considerate friend he is, offers up his place to Hinata.

“Oh no, I would be imposing—”

“Stay as long as you need,” Kenma insists. Tetsurou and Hinata share identical stares of bewilderment, because Kenma, who values his privacy more than anything, is voluntarily letting Hinata stay at his home _indefinitely._

_“_ Are you sure? Y-you only have one bed and I feel bad, I can stay at a hotel.”

Tetsurou still remembers the new year’s party last year with all the Nekoma alumni, where Kenma kicked everyone out—hungover or not—because he had a live gaming session scheduled and ‘couldn’t concentrate with everyone here’. From that day onwards, an unspoken agreement has been made not to ask Kenma to host their get-togethers if he has to work, no matter that his house is the biggest.

“You are not staying at a hotel, Shouyou,” Kenma says with finality. Tetsurou resigns himself to his right hand for at least the next month.

Kenma’s Japanese-style house is a spacious one-story at omotesando, close enough to the heart of Tokyo, where Bouncing Ball’s HQ (and the Japanese Volleyball Associaton) is, but peaceful enough that the noise pollution wouldn’t disturb him while filming for YouTube. Tetsurou understands—proud, even— that Kenma is being a good friend. He’s providing a stable and convenient base of operations for Hinata who is trying out for various Division 1 V.league teams.

He understands. But that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it. He’s not even jealous that _his boyfriend_ let _another man_ into his bed, because he’s not immature like that; he’s just sad that his already scarce time with Kenma will be cut even more.

It’s week 2 of Hinata Shouyou’s return to Japan, and Tetsurou hasn’t seen Kenma since the morning after he went to pick Hinata up from Narita. Last Friday’s date night is cancelled because Hinata wanted to introduce Kenma to his Karasuno upperclassmen over dinner, and this week, Kenma has just told him, rather apologetically, that Bouncing Ball has scheduled a board meeting with Hinata to renew his sponsorship contract…on Friday evening.

It’s not even Hinata’s doing this time, but Tetsurou would be lying if he said he isn’t a tiny smidge irritated with him.

Not many people know about the true nature of his relationship with Kenma, leaving him very limited options to vent his frustrations: Bokuto is sympathetic, but Akaashi downright calls him a ‘horny brat’. That, coming from well-mannered and gentle Akaashi Keiji, hurts more than any insult Yaku may or may not have thrown him (“Lev lives with Alisa-san, but you don’t see me complaining!”).

Week 3 into Hinata Shouyou’s return sees Tetsurou spending the third a Friday in a row by himself, this time due to Bouncing Ball’s dinner party to celebrate the appointment of their new chief financial officer. Hinata is invited, and Kenma is literally obliged to go.

Tetsurou turns down Kenma’s invite as his plus-one, because if he’d rather hang himself with his tie than attend another social event after his three back-to-back volleyball association meetings.

Really, it isn’t Hinata Shouyou’s fault that Tetsurou is boyfriend-deprived and sexually frustrated. It’s just a series of unfortunate events that happened to line up with Hinata’s return; correlation does not mean causation.

But instead of doing something productive, Tetsurou buys himself a pint of ice cream, plops on the sofa in his two-bedroom apartment, and mindlessly watches Netflix as he tries to drown out the sounds of his roommate having sex with his girlfriend. He really, really needs to start hunting for his own place.

Week 4 (definitely not counting, nope) comes and goes. By then, Tetsurou is so, so desperate that when Kenma complains that his brunch meeting has been postponed at the last minute, he all but jumps at the chance to take Kenma out to coffee. They’re not codependent, but between the two of them, Tetsurou has always been the needier boyfriend. Kenma humors him anyway.

(Besides, he isn’t needed until the FIVB conference in two hours anyway; no one’s going to miss him until then)

They meet at a three-Michelin Star restaurant in Ginza: the one Tetsurou dimly remembers that serves top-notch desserts. The company had a reservation there in preparation for the meeting, so might as well show up, he said. Tetsurou doesn’t mind, as long as he gets to see him.

When Tetsurou arrives, Kenma is already there, seated at a corner table and looking like an absolute eye-candy in his smart-casual attire.

“Kenma!” Tetsurou says, rather loudly—he didn’t mean to, it just slipped out in his excitement— as he bounds over to Kenma and hugs him tightly, not even giving time for the other to stand.

“…People are staring,” Kenma says, but since he’s not squirming, Tetsurou doesn’t let go. Screw other people, he hasn’t touched his boyfriend in a month.

Conversation flows easily between them, as it always has. They catch up on events that didn’t make it into text: Tetsurou rambles on about an upcoming charity game the volleyball association will be organizing, and Kenma tells him about the potential partnership between Bouncing Ball and ASICS—apparently the agenda for today’s meeting.

“ASICS is launching a new clothing line for outdoor sports this summer—” their beverages arrive, and Kenma reaches for his English Breakfast tea. “They want to use our nanotech to make the material UV and water proof, but they’re in a binding agreement with their current supplier from Vietnam…”

Tetsurou nods along as he sips his iced americano. He may not know the finer details of Kenma’s business ventures, but at least he could listen.

“…also interested in having Ninja Shouyou be the face for this line, since they feel that beach volleyball is a good visual to show off the—”

“Oya? Hinata is going to be a model?” Finally, a topic Tetsurou can contribute to.

Kenma blinks. “I…guess?”

“You guess? What did you mean by Hinata being the ‘face’ then?”

“We haven’t discussed the details with ASICS yet, but we were thinking more towards Shouyou attending sponsored Beach events in that clothing pre-release. I’m not sure if he’ll be required to actually model like Lev does…”

The mental image of Hinata Shouyou with hair slicked back, face caked with makeup and posing artfully with some beach gear almost causes Tetsurou to choke. Hinata is too short anyway, by model standards.

“That kid is on a whole other level, seriously. Who knew puberty would do him such a favour.”

“You…during university...” Tetsurou doesn’t catch most of what Kenma said, so he asks him to repeat what he said.

“Nothing,” Kenma quickly says. Tetsurou is too distracted by the mini cakes that come to ask him again.

Week 6 (who is he kidding, he’s definitely counting) into Hinata’s stay at the Kozume residence, Tetsurou isn’t even irritated anymore. Both he and Kenma are busy with their respective careers that—Hinata or not—they barely have enough time to even sleep, let alone see each other.

Good things come to those who wait: week 8 is definitely looking up. The charity game goes well, potentially attracting good media coverage and, hopefully, more events and partnerships; and more mainstream interest in volleyball.

Moreover, Kenma tells him that Hinata is heading over to Osaka to try out for the MSBY Black Jackals at Bokuto’s insistence. They’re on the hunt for new talent to spice up the upcoming season, and Bokuto is confident that Hinata is the addition they need to finally ‘beat the Schweiden Adlers to a pulp’. Of course, Hinata accepted, enthusiastic at the prospect of playing on the same team as one of his role models.

That means, that from next week onwards, Hinata Shouyou would no longer be camping at Kenma’s.

That means, that from next week onwards, Kuroo Tetsurou will finally be able to get some.

‘I love you, Bokuto Koutarou,’ Tetsurou sends his mental gratitudes to his bestest bro over at Osaka. It isn’t that he dislikes Kenma and Hinata together, but this is the longest dry spell he has ever had, and Tetsurou is more than ready to reclaim his spot on Kenma’s king-sized bed.

They drop Hinata at Tokyo station to catch the Shinkansen. The moment they get back to Kenma’s house, Tetsurou pushes the smaller man against the wall and ravishes him like a man on the brink of starvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Akaashi and Bokuto


	2. Akaashi Keiji (ft. Bokuto Koutarou)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata stays over with Bokuto and Akaashi

  
Keiji coming over to visit him all the way from Tokyo is always enough to make Koutarou happy. But he’s feeling extra peppy today as he waits in a restaurant at Shin-Osaka station for his favourite disciple to disembark from the Shinkansen.

“Calm down, Koutarou.” His boyfriend, always attuned to his moods, touches Koutarou’s legs with own from under the table. It’s a family restaurant and they don’t want to be kicked out, so this will have to do.

“Keijiii, we haven’t seen him in years!”

“I know. The train’s scheduled to arrive in ten minutes, we will see him very soon.”

The moment he caught wind of Ninja Shouyou’s return to their motherland, Koutarou hit him up and asked him to come over to Osaka. The Black Jackals are a member short after one of their middle blockers retired to take care of his ailing mother, and he could not think of a better candidate than his excitable underclassman to fill the opening. Luckily, Hinata accepted, and would be staying at Bokuto’s two-bedroom penthouse apartment for the duration of his try-outs.

Coincidentally, it’s also his and Keiji’s fifth anniversary this week, hence Keiji’s visit to Osaka; Koutarou is not having them spend their special day over grainy video calls, thank you very much, and luckily, Keiji has some vacation days saved up.

Koutarou’s phone chirps with a new message: Hinata has arrived. Koutarou buzzes with energy as he texts Hinata the restaurant he and Keiji are in.

“Bokuto-san!”

Heads turn, and there is Hinata Shouyou, in his tanned and muscular glory and characteristic burnt-orange hair, pushing open the doors of the small establishment.

“Hinata!” Koutarou leaps out of his seat, just in time to pull the shorter man into a bone-crushing hug. “You’ve filled out! And you look so different, I barely recognized you!”

“Ooooh I’m so glad to see you again!” Koutarou should be embarrassed that he and Hinata—two fully grown professional sportsmen—are jumping up and down like children in the middle of a restaurant, but his skin is too thick to care about the public’s opinion anymore. Keiji worries enough for the both of them anyway.

“Hinata-kun, I see you’re doing well,” Keiji greets after Koutarou finally put Hinata down.

“Akaashi-san!” Hinata goes in for a hug, which Keiji accepts, in a notably calmer manner than Koutarou. “Are you still playing volleyball?”

“Only leisurely, I am not skilled enough for the professional bracket,” Keiji says, as if he hasn’t had teams hounding him with offers when he graduated high school. Koutarou would know; he’d spent the bulk of Keiji’s third year convincing him to at least try it out, to no avail. Keiji had ultimately chosen to go to university and pursue a career in publishing.

“What are you talking about, Akaashi-san, you were really good!”

“You don’t have to flatter me…” Keiji says, and gives Hinata a smile so radiant, so beautiful that high school Koutarou would have been writhing with jealousy that it was directed at someone else.

“Oh yeah, can we take a picture? Kageyama is going to be so jealous!”

Keiji, although surprised, lets himself be pulled into a one-armed hug to take a selfie. “Why would Kageyama-kun be jealous…?”

Hinata sniggers. “He had a senpai-crush on you in our first-year of high school, and I’m on a mission to rub it in his face that all of his senpai-crushes like me more!”

Koutarou smiles like the cat that got the cream. Japan’s genius setter Kageyama Tobio had an itty-bitty crush on his boyfriend. Suddenly, Koutarou doesn’t mind so much that the Black Jackals have never once won against the Schweiden Adlers in an official match. Never let it be said that Bokuto Koutarou isn’t childish, even at the age of 25.

“Ha! Eat this, Bakageyama!” Hinata sneers at his phone as he sends the photo. If Koutarou didn’t know better, he’d think that Hinata and Kageyama hated each other, when it’s actually the total opposite.

After the 3rd glare from the manager, Keiji finally herds them out the restaurant and to Koutarou’s new car: a shiny, sleek black Audi A7: the most extravagant and proudest purchase in his entire life.

At Hinata’s starry-eyed admiration, Koutarou puffs his chest out and lovingly strokes his baby girl on her hood. Keiji rolls his eyes as he gets into the passenger seat.

Koutarou’s penthouse in Hirakata is a half-hour drive away from Shin-Osaka station, and a mere ten minutes from the indoor gymnasium the Black Jackals are using as their base. The modern high-rise building stands next the beautiful Yamadaike Park—“pity you didn’t make it for the cherry blossoms, it’s really pretty!”— with a convenience store on the ground floor (Koutarou’s number one priority when he was house-hunting).

They get Hinata settled in the guest bedroom Koutarou reserves for visiting friends—mostly just Kuroo to be honest— that they cleaned beforehand. At Hinata’s admission that this room, together with its en-suite, is probably the size of his flat back in Rio, Koutarou claps him on the shoulder and assures him that he’ll be rolling in big bucks very soon.

Choosing a new member for a professional sports team is a complicated process. Once they are signed on, there’s no going back until their contract expires; a wrong addition could very well break the team and worsen their performance.

Over the next few days, Hinata and these rest of the hopefuls get cycled through various three-on-threes, paired with various members of the Black Jackals, to test their chemistry with the rest of the team. Koutarou isn’t worried, because from the get-go, Hinata has caught Oliver and Adriah’s attention.

“Yes! I know Japanese and Portuguese. Little bit English and Spanish,” Hinata tells them, and Koutarou can tell that Hinata has made a good first impression, being the only applicant who speaks even a modicum of English.

Hinata has also quickly become their starting setter’s favourite candidate. Miya Atsumu, for some reason, is more fired-up than usual when he gets paired with Hinata in one of the three-on-three’s.

They execute a quick not unlike the freak-quick by Hinata and Kageyama in high school, despite the both of them claiming they haven’t played together before, wiping the opposing team with a score of 15-6. Koutarou looks on like a proud father watching his kid grow up.

The last day of official try-outs ends with Hinata being asked to come to their official practices as a trial-run: to see if he can truly assimilate. It’s as good as an acceptance, and to celebrate, Koutarou and Keiji treat Hinata to KBBQ and many, many beers.

The day of Koutarou and Keiji’s anniversary rolls around on a lazy weekend. Koutarou wakes his beloved up with soft kisses to bare skin with a prelude to something more. They’d been too sleepy to do anything more than handjobs the night before, and Koutarou intends to fully make it up to him right now.

Once Keiji is fully in the world of consciousness, Koutarou removes the other’s pants and proceeds to nip at the insides of his thighs, marring the milky-white skin with red and pink.

“Don’t tease,” Keiji groans, his sleep-addled voice giving it a husky undertone that does dangerous things to Koutarou’s heart.

Long, lithe fingers tug on Koutarou’s hair as he presses open-mouthed kisses onto Keiji’s clothed bulge, leaving damp spots that are a mixture of precome and saliva. He could smell Keiji’s heady scent, musky from the whole night, and that spurs him on. Grinning to himself, Koutarou frees Keiji’s erection from its constraints, about to finally get a taste of him—

The sound of a door closing makes them both freeze.

It isn’t loud, but it’s a jarring reminder to them that they are not alone. If it was Kuroo, Koutarou would have continued on his merry way without so much as batting an eyelid. But this is Hinata, their underclassman that Koutarou had taken under his wing when the former was still an impressionable fifteen year old boy.

“We…we shouldn’t do this,” Keiji says, but Koutarou could hear the arousal in his voice. “Hinata may—” Keiji gasps when Koutarou tongues the tip of his dick.

While Koutarou is not into exhibitionism, right now, he’s too horny to care. On the other hand, he knows that Keiji would be uncomfortable, and there’s no point if Keiji isn’t into it too. Even so, he loathes to leave his boyfriend in this state, especially on their anniversary. “You’re usually quiet. I can suck your dick, and then go jerk off in the shower.” It’s as good as they’re going to get, with their guest a mere wall away.

Keiji nods, and Koutarou immediately takes him into his mouth.

Five minutes later, Koutarou is swallowing all of Keiji’s release, the latter reduced to putty on their bed. As much as Koutarou wants to push things further, he knows that they can’t. So it is with much reluctance that he peels himself off of Keiji and waddles to their en-suite, the hardness between his legs making every step excruciating.

Little Koutarou isn’t happy about this development, but too bad. After all, Koutarou was the one who had insisted Hinata stay at his home.

If Hinata notices that Keiji is extra nice to him today, he shows no sign of it. Koutarou knows Keiji is feeling guilty (for what? Almost ‘defiling’ a 23 year old-old man?), and is trying to compensate for it.

So when Hinata asks Keiji to set for him, Keiji agrees without hesitation. It’s all Koutarou could do but try not to gape, because he had to bribe his own boyfriend to get him to set for him again, and Hinata just asks, and gets it easily?

Since they’re three people, Koutarou calls up Miya to join them in a friendly game of two-on-two, aware of their setter’s fixation on Hinata. When they reach the gym, for whatever reason, Miya slyly suggests that they mix things up, rather than just going with the predictable Bokuto-Akaashi vs Miya-Hinata.

“It’s not fair, Hinata and I just met, but yer knew each other since high school.”

It’s Bokuto-Miya against Akaashi-Hinata, and he wonders if this isn’t more unfair for the other team. But Keiji and Hinata seem satisfied with this arrangement, so who is Koutarou to say anything?

They play, and Koutarou smiles when he sees his lover have fun, his stresses and anxieties melting away with this low-stakes game. Personally, he doesn’t believe in holding back, but just this time, he doesn’t spike as hard as he could have—far from it. The ball bounces off Hinata’s block and back into their side of the court.

“Goin’ easy on yer man?” Miya teases, but it’s without any bite.

“It’s our off-day, tsum-tsum, let’s chill and just enjoy ourselves!”

Enjoy themselves they did. Miya and Koutarou had years of syncing together under their belt—and this is technically their job—so no one is surprised that they win. But for people who have never played with each other before, Keiji and Hinata did surprisingly well.

Keiji was—is a good setter, able to adapt to any type of spiker, and Hinata…his true strength is his ability to make friends anytime, anywhere. He’s able to make even the coldest of people melt and open up to him; he’s a ball of energy, able to give other people a boost of adrenaline; to inspire them to perform their very best. Back then, what he lacks in technique, he makes up for it with exuberance. But now, he has both.

Insecure, high school-Koutarou would have been jealous at how seamlessly Hinata and Keiji work together—how Hinata is able to make Keiji smile so beautifully, laugh so openly, and feel so passionately through their plays alone—however, all Koutarou feels now is pride and gratitude.

A side-glance towards Miya tells Koutarou that Keiji isn’t the only setter being strung along by Hinata Shouyou.

One downside to this little scrimmage: fueling Koutarou’s sexual energy. His love for Keiji burns even brighter and stronger than this morning, it must be steaming out from his ears by now. Sadly, Keiji refuses to do anything above PG13 so long as Hinata is in the house, and Koutarou is forced to masturbate in the shower for the second time today.

Koutarou sends his bestest bro over at Tokyo a text regarding his plight, only to receive a voice memo of his hyena laughter. Stupid rooster-haired bastard. 

Then, Keiji has to return home for a work emergency—“there is an issue with the launch of one of my author’s new series”— and Koutarou deflates a little. Backpack in hand, Keiji gives him a quick peck on the lips, and he’s off.

At least the Black Jackals got Hinata on their team. With him, their plays are only going to strengthen, and if all it took was Koutarou sacrificing his anniversary—well, he doesn’t regret it at all. Besides, he can always head over to Tokyo anytime his and Keiji’s schedules align.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The struggles xD 
> 
> Next: Oikawa and Iwaizumi


	3. Oikawa Tooru (ft. Iwaizumi Hajime)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the 2021 Olympics, Iwaizumi and Oikawa finally reunite. Oikawa and Hinata also reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything about the 2021 Olympics is for the sake of fiction. I do not claim to know the outcome of the games even before it has happened.
> 
> I also do no speak a lick of Spanish, and had to rely on google translate, so pls correct me if there are any errors!

**bold = Spanish/English**

regular = Japanese

  
  
Ariake arena has never seen such exuberance. Cameras flash. Crowds roar. The clean smell of salonpas stings their nostrils with every deep breath.

Japan hasn’t stood on the Olympic stage for six consecutive games. Sure, this year, people said that they only stood a chance because they’re the host, but Team Japan soon shut them up by blowing through Team Iran and Venezuela to rightfully earn their spot in the quarter-finals, as known as the knockout stage.

Hajime sits alongside coach Nakagaichi and his two assistant coaches on the sidelines, watching, with swelling pride, as his team—the best Japan has to show for in decades—strides over to the center court where they will face off against the 2016 games’ good medalist: Brazil.

He wonders if Hinata feels any internal conflict, considering Brazil had been ‘home’ for him for three years. Then, he wonders if he would feel the same if their two countries ever face off. Absentmindedly, his fingers reach up to toy with the promise ring suspended on his neck by a thin, silver chain.

‘Wherever we are in the world, now we’ll have something to remind each other of,’ Hajime had said the last time they saw each other, inhibitions loose under the vulnerability of the night sky and his lover’s soft, tender gazes.

From both their recruitment into their respective national teams to the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s been two years since then. No matter how much Hajime may verbally deny it, he can’t lie to himself: he misses him. A lot.

Hajime startles when a hand touches his shoulder. “Nervous?”

“Why would I be? I’m not even playing.”

Kuroo sends him a shit-eating grin that makes even the two-piece Valentino suit he’s wearing look cheap. “Not this. I think these monsters are good enough to beat Brazil, especially since their star player got injured. I meant the game after.”

Italy vs. Argentina.

If Japan and Argentina win their games today, the bracket would have them face each other in the semifinals two days later.

“Nah, all the better for me if he loses; we both agreed not to see each other until we face off, or at least until one of us gets knocked out.” If they can hold out for two years, they damn well can for another few days.

Kuroo whistles“That’s some patience you got there. I could never.”

The whistle blows, silencing Kuroo. Hajime clears his mind, directing his full attention to the game at hand.

*

The best-case scenario for them comes to fruition: Team Japan strides onto the play area once more—after a 3-2 against Brazil— to face Team Argentina from across the court.

“The Japanese men’s volleyball team is in peak condition!” Screams the sports announcer. “Today’s opponent is Argentina, now ranked fourth in the world with Jose Blanco as their main coach!”

Jose Blanco. The man that uprooted their lives with that one match in their distant childhood. Hajime had the pleasure of meeting the man in person when he was visiting Argentina, and the charisma and silent confidence Blanco carries forms quite the lasting impression on his young adult self. It’s not hard to see why the Argentinian National team is smitten with him.

Team Argentina walks out with a flourish amidst roars from their side of the stands. Hajime’s eyes zero on one person.

It’s funny; they just FaceTimed each other yesterday, so Hajime knows what he looks like— from the fine tips of his hair to the rough chiseled angle of his jaw. But the sight of him in the flesh blows Hajime away: the pixels even on the latest iPhone don’t even compare.

Adorned with blue and white, the number 13 sits proudly on his chest— a tribute to Jose Blanco. He had been beyond himself with glee when he called Hajime to tell him his chosen number.

The first set begins proper with the shrill of the whistle. Argentina’s Oikawa has the first serve. Amidst the cheers of ‘service ace’, He retrieves the ball from the ball-boy, looks straight up at Hajime. He smirks, as If he’d known all along that Hajime had been watching him.

Hajime’s heart thuds. He grips his clipboard to ground himself.

It lasts even less than a second. Before Hajime could get his bearings together, there is a resounding ‘smack’ of ball hitting palm..

Beautiful. Ethereal.

Hajime becomes enthralled and, if that is even possible, falls even more in love with him.

Luckily for Japan, Sakusa manages to receive the ball, sending it over in a high arc to Kageyama. In a flash, Ushijima runs up and blasts the ball down to the right corner.

Point one to Japan, and also point one to Hajime when he sees the look of vexation on the Argentine’s face.

It’s a fierce battle, but even novices can see that Argentina has the better six despite the monster generation playing their best.

The score is now 2-0 for Argentina. Japan has to win the third set if they hope to advance to the finals. By now, every citizen is probably buzzing about the Japanese-born Argentinian star setter, Oikawa Tooru.

“Setter Oikawa Tooru, Argentina’s representative: all eyes are on him with his debut in the 2021 Olympics, due to his former status as a citizen of Japan.”

“Yes, pretty interesting game going on here—”

The teams change sides of the court under the sports announcers’ narration of Tooru’s history..

“—when he was a student in Japan, he was unknown and had no experience in the national scene—”

It had been their sore spot even months out of high school. But as all things do, they fade away with the essence of time. Hajime has long since been able to reminisce about his Aoba Johsai days with no lick of frustration, and so does Tooru.

But now, Tooru takes the Japanese Volleyball world by storm even though he’s no longer Japanese, and Hajime couldn’t be any prouder at how far he’s come.

*

It is a sweeping victory at 3-0 for Team Argentina.

Team Japan is anything but graceful, accepting their defeat with good sportsmanship. He watches the players shake hands, and his eyes fixate on his lover as he says something to Ushijima— Hajime could only hope it isn’t something rude, because even at the age of 27, Oikawa Tooru is still as petty as he was at 17.

Hajime’s insides burn with longing at the sight; just a few strides, within his arms’ reach, stands the most important person in his life. But somehow, he manages to maintain professional decorum, huddling around his team to congratulate them for a great game played as they vacate the court.

“Oikawa-san!!”

“Shouyou!!”

With the game officially over, Hinata switches back from concentration mode to his happy-go-lucky self, running over towards Tooru, who spreads his arms in time to receive his hug.

The friends embrace tightly. Next to him, Kageyama drops his water bottle.

Hajime chuckles lowly; even his own lover isn’t immune to the charms of Hinata Shouyou. They’re an odd pair of friends, but Hajime supposes others would say the same about himself and Ushijima; they even meet up to play pool every Friday, along with Kuroo and Bokuto.

“First Brazil, now Argentina, Shouyou is mister worldwide,” Miya muses. “But of all the people—urgh, that guy gives me bad vibes!”

“Hi pot, I’m kettle.”

“Shut up Omi-omi!”

“I don’t think Oikawa Tooru counts, because he was originally Japanese,” Hoshiumi pipes up.

“They became friends after Oikawa left Japan, so it does,” Ushijima says, no doubt thinking about the Oikawa-Hinata selfie in Rio that s h o o k practically everyone who saw it.

The crowd thins, leaving behind mostly the staff and the players. Iwaizumi takes one look at a frozen Kageyama and an irritated Miya, and decides to put an end to their misery, lest their two main setters combust.

(Seriously, what is with setters and their obsession with Hinata Shouyou?)

The Argentines are mingling about and doing their cool-downs, save for Tooru, who’s currently running his mouth to Hinata in Spanish.

“ **Tobio nos está mirando** ( _Tobio-chan is looking at us_ ),” Hajime hears Tooru say, “ **Vamos a ponerlo enojado** ( _Let’s make him angry_ ).”

Hajime predominantly spoke English during his undergraduate program in UC Irvine, but he’d picked up conversational Spanish along the way as his third language. He understood that Tooru’s wants to rile Kageyama up; why is Hajime not even surprised?

“ **¿Por qué estaría enojado?** ( _Why would he be angry?_ ) Hinata steals a quick glance backward, presumably at Kageyama. “ **creo que solo quiere hablar contigo…** ( _I think he just wants to talk to you_ )”

“Shittykawa.”

Tooru’s head snaps up. Hazel brown eyes lock on Hajime’s. Then, a soft smile breaks out on his face and God, Hajime missed his smile; missed him.

“ **Te lo tengo que robar, lo siento."** ( _I’m going to have to steal him from you_ )” Hajime says casually, even though every fiber of his being is demanding him to pull Oikawa in and kiss him senseless. It’s the only reason why he’s purposely maintaining a safe, 10-feet distance from his lover right now. “Let’s go, Hinata, coach wants to debrief us.”

Not technically a lie, but it works.

“Okay, see you later, Oikawa-san!”

When Hinata’s back is turned, Tooru’s smile turns mischievous. “Jealous?” he mouths in Japanese.

“ **You wish,** ” Iwaizumi answers back in English, just to get the upper hand because Tooru isn’t as good at the language. “ **My room. Tonight**.”

Tooru understands that much. Suddenly, the atmosphere around them becomes hot and thick, despite being in an air-conditioned gymnasium. Hajime swallows as Tooru closes the gap between them, sensually tracing a finger along the outline of his ring under his jersey. “ **Por supuesto…mi amor** ( _of course…my love_ ).”

It should be illegal for a language to sound so dirty; if Hajime isn’t all hot and bothered from before, he sure is now. He might have to hold off from speaking Spanish to his US friends for a few weeks now because he might pop a boner if he does.

“Iwaizumi! Where are the ice packs?” Bokuto’s shout jerks him back to reality. Right, he has a job to do. Hajime tears his eyes away from his lover and jogs back to tend to his team.

At the same time, Argentina’s side calls Tooru’s name. Hajime jogs back to his team, taking slow, deep breaths to try to calm himself down.

He has been KO-ed by four measly words, and Hajime is mad because that makes him so, so whipped. And that sultry look on his face: it makes Hajime want to both pelt a volleyball at him and pin him to the nearest surface and fuck his brains out. He’s so distracted that Ushijima had asked him—three times—if he is all right.

The guffaws Bokuto and Kuroo direct him are not helping matters. Bastards.

After post-exercise recovery, Coach Nakagaichi debriefs them and reminds them, sternly, to properly rest for the bronze medal match against team USA. The team is then free to do whatever they want until the national team’s nutritionist arrives with their dinner.

As the team treks back to their accommodations in Olympic village, Hajime’s Apple Watch vibrates against his wrist with a notification from Tooru:

‘Building and room number?’

Hajime’s heart skips a beat, and it’s all he could do to maintain a neutral face. He sends out a quick reply, and immediately receives an eggplant emoji in response. Damn him.

Hajime quickly excuses himself and heads back to his room. He’s beside himself with anticipation, and it would only be a matter of time before the entire team catches on that their athletic trainer is suddenly incapable of functioning like a normal human.

He needs to shower and prepare himself anyway.

The butterflies in his stomach come full force when Tooru tells him he’s on his way.

Hajime paces around his room, even tries to get some reading in in a bid to act casual, but he hasn’t touched his lover in two years—his head is filled only with Tooru.

So when a message comes in one eternity later, he may or may not have tripped over himself trying to retrieve his phone. He doesn’t have time to be ashamed that he’s acting like a middle schooler on his first date as he clicks on the notification:

_‘Sorry Iwa-chan, I might be a little late. I met Shouyou along the way and we’re spilling so. Much. Tea. This is gold. Like if the tabloids get wind of our conversation…’_

Hajime throws his phone onto his bed, along with himself, and screams into his pillow. Tooru has got to be doing this on purpose. There was no way Hajime imagined the heated looks prickling his skin all through today, building his anticipation, only to reduce him to this simpering mess with words alone. 

At this point, Hajime doesn’t even care if Tooru will tease him about how desperate he is, if the little shit would just show up.

Hajime scrolls through Instagram and Twitter. For a while, they work to distract him, especially Bokuto’s stories on the Field Hockey match at Oi stadium.

But when Hinata’s shout of ‘Bakageyama!’ seeps through the walls of his room, his body moves on autopilot, ready to break up a potential fight as he throws open his door—

Hajime zeroes on Tooru, with his arms around Hinata’s shoulder, sticking out his tongue like a grade schooler. Hajime thinks that there are way better things he could do with it instead of antagonizing his high school rival.

“Baka baka,” Tooru’s tone lilts mockingly, “you can’t even notice—oh, Iwa—” 

Barely acknowledging the freak-duo, Hajime grabs Tooru’s wrist and tugs hard. The latter crashes into Hajime’s chest with a squeak. “Taking him for a minute.”

Hinata giggles. “Have fun!”

The door slams shut, and Hajime latches onto Tooru’s lips with urgency, because finally.

“Hey, w-wait…”

“Shut up. This is your fault,” Hajime replies, directing his focus to Tooru’s bare neck. His tongue brushes against metal—the chain around his neck—and desire washes over him like a tidal wave. Tooru’s breathless pants egging him on, he separates himself from Tooru long enough to rip off Tooru’s shirt.

“Iwa-chan, I can’t…”

Tooru's fingers dig into Hajime’s back as he trails his teeth along Tooru’s chest, sinking his teeth into soft flesh. At the same time, Tooru’s knees buckle, pulling them down. Even as they shift from the wall to the floor, Hajime is relentless in his attacks—he has two years to make up for, after all.

Hajime looms over Tooru, drinking in the image of his flushed face, unfocused eyes and parted lips that goes straight to his dick. Tooru opens his mouth to say something, but instead, produces a high-pitched moan when Hajime presses a knee to his half-hard crotch.

“S-stop, I need to—” But even as Tooru says this, he’s grinding back onto Hajime with breathy moans, so Hajime deems it safe to ignore him as he alternates between biting and licking at whatever patch of skin his mouth lands on.

Hajime feels arms tighten around his waist and strong hips undulating, seeking friction. He obliges, rhythmically moving his thigh against Tooru’s—now damp—clothed bulge.

Tooru cranes his neck to chase his mouth, and Hajime gladly meets him, sliding his tongue in, relishing their closeness—

There’s a cry, and Hajime pulls back, startled.

Tooru tenses, quivers, with Hajime’s bicep in a vice-like grip. It takes Hajime a few milliseconds too long to realize that Tooru came. From dry-humping.

Hajime burns into his retinas the image of his lover at the peak of pleasure, lowering himself to press a soft kiss on his lover’s forehead.

Then Tooru goes limp, his chest heaving. He smiles tiredly, unguardedly, up at Hajime in post-coital bliss, and it’s one of Hajime’s favorite expressions on Tooru, especially since it’s reserved for him and only him, but…

“Looks like you need to work on your stamina.” Apparently, he likes riling Tooru up even more. He earns a pinch to his arm for his comment.

“Fuck you.” Tooru’s face burns, and he attempts to cover it with his arms, only for Hajime to slap it away.

Glassy eyes angrily stare up at Hajime, but with the blush splashing his cheeks and his neck and chest covered with Hajime’s handiwork, Tooru is as much of a threat as an angry Pomeranian. 

Hajime can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. The shot of endorphins slightly dampens his arousal, but only adds tenfold onto the love he feels for the person underneath him.

Tooru harrumphs. “Worst. Boyfriend. Ever.”

Hajime apologizes by kissing him again. Tooru responds eagerly, and gives Hajime’s ass a squeeze.

“C’mon, let’s get this off so the ‘worst boyfriend ever’ can ride you,” Hajime says, hands hooking onto the waistband of Tooru’s shorts.

“Mm, yeah, you better…oh shit, wait—” but Hajime’s already yanking Tooru’s shorts off, along with his underwear, rendering him stark-naked. Hajime is confused about Tooru’s sudden panic, until a small jewelery box falls with a ‘thud’ to the carpeted floor.

They both stare at the unmoving object, one surprised, one mortified. They could almost hear crickets stridulating in the background.

Hajime is first to react. He reaches over to retrieve the jewelery box with feigned nonchalance— even though his brain is whirring with 101 different questions. “So, you planning on proposing, or is there another man that I should know of?”

Tooru sputters, blush back on his face with full force.

“Fortunately, I know you well enough to know that it’s the first, so yes—” Hajime allows the smile to set on his face, “I’ll marry you, Tooru.”

Tooru makes a choked sound. “No fair. I didn’t even get to ask you!” He sits up and makes grabby motions for the box. “I was gonna wait until after the Olympics, but Shouyou said I should do it now since we’ll be busy for the awards ceremony and interviews and—”

“Wait, was that why you were with Hinata? And here I thought you’re just a gossip monger.” It makes sense now why Tooru took so long in coming here. “And did you seriously think the timing would change my answer? I’d still say yes even if you asked me in front of a dumpster.”

Tooru kicks him petulantly. “I wanted to make it special, you jerk! Even had a speech ready and everything…”

Hajime laughs, and Tooru takes this chance to snatch the box from him. “Alright, I’ll pretend I didn’t see it, and you can do it properly.”

Tooru groans. “I can’t help it that a _depraved Neanderthal_ literally assaulted me the moment he saw me in the hallway.”

“You seem to be pretty depraved yourself, seeing as you c—”

“Fine! I missed you, okay!” Tooru shrieks. Hajime decides to stop teasing him, partially because he recognizes that this is important to Tooru, and partially because he _does_ want to get laid tonight. He waits patiently as Tooru calms himself down, patting his mussed hair.

Tooru side-eyes his stained shorts, grimaces, and apparently decides that the discomfort isn’t worth it. So it is in his birthday suit that Tooru, in seiza, gently takes Hajime’s left hand to slip the gold band onto his fourth finger.

Hajime’s face heats up, and his heart explodes. He feels like he might faint.

“Iwaizumi Hajime…ever since I was born, you were always there by my side, throughout my alien-phase, throughout my volleyball journey…from Kita-ichi to Seijou to moving to different countries. Even now although we’re an ocean apart most of the time, you’ve been, no, you _are_ my pillar, my rock, my _iwa-chan_. I don’t think I can stop loving you even if I tried…”

Tooru’s eyes glitter with adoration and unshed tears, and Hajime just wants to scream ‘yes!’ so loudly for the entire building to hear, but he lets Tooru continue.

“So uh, I know you said you don’t want to move to Argentina…and I’m still playing for **Club Atlético San Juan** for the foreseeable future, but these nine years is proof enough that we…we don’t need to be physically together to still love each other…” Tooru takes a deep breath. “ **Mi amor, te quieres casar conmigo?”**

_My love, will you marry me?_

For the second time tonight, Hajime tackles Tooru to the floor.

“Yes—” he peppers Tooru’s face with kisses. “yes—” another kiss, “ **yes, a million times yes** ,” Hajime answers breathlessly, his garbled brain switching between English and Japanese in his declarations; because one isn’t enough to express the multitude of feelings swimming in him, filling him up to the throat and threatening to burst. And even though he’d been prepared by that unfortunate mishap, that does nothing to diminish the profundity of being proposed to by the right person.

“Remove this already,” Tooru grumbles into Hajime’s neck, tugging at Hajime’s clothes.

“So eager,” Hajime says, but really, he’s just as eager—has been since the Japan vs Argentina game. Tooru rips Hajime’s shirt off with a growl, and he’s just about to do the same with his joggers—

“You’re so so stupid, Kageyama! I hate you!!”

Tooru’s hands still.

Little Hajime deflates slightly at the pump of adrenaline from the auditory shock.

“Fuckin’ just listen—”

“NO!”

Hinata shout was so loud, it’s probably audible even in Sakusa’s room at the far end. Then, there’s a slam of the door that causes the decorative frames in Hajime’s room to rattle.

“That’s Kageyama’s room…” Hajime mutters to himself. Normally, the freak duo bicker like a married couple, but never once has Hajime heard Kageyama curse at Hinata, or Hinata storm off like that.

He looks at his lover—naked and inviting— and groans. He is definitely not paid enough for this.

“Go on then, do what you must.” Tooru says, reading his mind. “I guess I’ll go check up on Shouyou…what’s his room number?”

Hajime’s libido is practically sobbing, but he ignores it for the greater good of Team Japan. They get redressed—Hajime lends Tooru a new pair of shorts—and Hajime pushes Tooru in the direction of Hinata’s room, while he himself summons god-given patience for a long night of playing counselor to his socially stunted friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell by the disproportionate length of this chapter compared to the first two, I love IwaOi/OiIwa.
> 
> Fact of the Day: the first character of ‘Iwaizumi’ 「岩」means ‘rock’. So I added in that little pun during Tooru’s confession.
> 
> Anyone else simping hard over our overseas-venturing babes (Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hinata, Noya, Tendou) being possibly bilingual/trilingual? I just *had* to incorporate that here.


	4. Miya Atsumu (ft. Sakusa Kiyoomi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyoomi suppresses a frustrated groan. If Kiyoomi hadn’t known about Miya’s obsession with Hinata since their high school days, he might have worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last but not least, Miya! 
> 
> There is a surprise mid-story, though I’m not sure how predictable this turn of events actually is to you guys.
> 
> Enjoy:)

Fresh shower, check

Clean clothes, check.

Changed sheets, check.

Portable air purifier, check.

Boyfriend with his teeth brushed, check.

Kiyoomi switches off the lamp and pulls the duvet snugly over them. He is now ready to call it a day, especially after that grueling match against Argentina. But the man next to him isn’t, with the way he’s trailing fingers up Kiyoomi’s thigh, his other hand casually scrolling through Twitter on his phone.

“Miya.”

“Omi-omi,” comes an innocent-sounding reply.

“We have the whole day tomorrow. Go to sleep or I’m kicking you out.”

“We don’t. We’re watching water polo with the other guys, remember?” Fingers knead his inner thigh, not quite where Kiyoomi would have wanted it, but enough to incite in him a twinge of desire. Still, he doesn’t want to give in too easily.

“Aren’t you tired? Oh wait,” Kiyoomi pretends to think. “You were only in for half a game, my bad.” He winces when he receives a hard pinch for that comment. That actually hurt.

“Quality, not quantity,” Miya huffs. He withdraws his hand and turns so his back is facing Kiyoomi. “Good night, _Sakusa_.”

Oh shit.

Kiyoomi sighs. He thought his boyfriend was over his inferiority complex complex with Kageyama. Apparently not.

“Miya,” Kiyoomi says, his tone softer. “You know I didn’t mean anything by that.”

He doesn’t receive a response, but the glow from Miya’s phone tells him that the other man is definitely not asleep.

“Hey,” Kiyoomi tries again.

“I said ‘good night’, Sakusa,” Miya replies tersely. As much as Kiyoomi wants to just sleep and deal with this later, he knows that Miya’s anger would only fester overnight, and become an even bigger pain in the ass come morning.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He reaches out, places a tentative hand on the other’s hip. Kiyoomi knows he’s not the best at this relationship thing, but (God knows why) he cares about this man a lot that he’s willing to step out of his comfort zone. “You really played well today, and your service aces were good.”

Miya must have felt the sincerity in his tone, for he relaxes, and Kiyoomi takes this chance to let his hand wander, finally resting on muscled pectorals.

“How would you feel if I said Bokkun played better than you?” Miya shifts, laying supine as he cranes his head to face Sakusa. His expression isn’t mad; Kiyoomi deduces that he must have actually been insecure.

Kiyoomi thinks for a second. “He _did_ officially score more than me last season.”

Miya groans. “I mean, if _I_ said it.”

Understanding finally dawns upon him. “Miya, I’m not going to start dating Kageyama just because he has better stats than you, or he plays more games than you.”

Miya’s eyes widen. Obviously, he didn’t expect Kiyoomi to blatantly call him out. For someone so self-assured, Miya is also his own harshest critic when it comes to his play.

Kiyoomi gives him a small squeeze, and Miya smiles.

“No shit. I’m obviously better-looking than Tobio-kun,” Miya says in deflection, and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “And…” Miya turns to fully face Kiyoomi, bringing his hand to cup the latter’s face. “I’m definitely better than him him bed.”

“You cocky—” Kiyoomi groans, but that’s silenced when Miya presses soft lips over his. An explosion of cherry occurs in Kiyoomi’s mouth— Miya’s lip mask— and he lets out a satisfied hum as Miya deepens the kiss.

Unhurriedly, Miya’s hands move under Kiyoomi’s shirt to trace patterns over his stomach and chest. Kiyoomi, wanting to speed things up, tugs impatiently at Miya’s clothes.

Miya breaks the kiss to slide Kiyoomi’s boxers down , and while the small, finicky part of Kiyoomi’s brain sighs at the thought of having to change the sheets _again_ , it’s quickly obliterated by his carnal desires when Miya takes off his shirt in one quick swoop, exposing defined pectorals.

“Lube, condoms?” Miya murmurs.

Kiyoomi leans sideways to open the top drawer, where he stored the goods since the last time they used them. He tosses the bottle to Miya, along with a pack of wet wipes. “Don’t forget to clean your hands.”

“Yes sir,” the blond says with a smirk. The fire in Miya’s gaze does not diminish, and Kiyoomi feels so, so lucky that he has found someone that can appreciate him even with his huge flaws. Suddenly, it’s as if a dam opened within him; after a quick but thorough wipe down of his hands, he reaches out for Miya to press their bodies together as much as his mental restrictions will allow…

“You’re so so stupid, Kageyama! I hate you!!”

Kiyoomi blinks.

Miya twitches.

“Fuckin’ just listen—”

“NO!”

Then it is quiet. The air purifier whirs in the background as two men stare at each other, trying to process what just transpired.

“That was definitely Shou-kun,” Miya says with a frown. “And the other guy…Tobio-kun?”

“Sounded like it. Did they fight?” Kiyoomi wonders aloud. To his knowledge, the Karasuno freak duo never argued. Not once, even on different league teams, and certainly not in the national team. Squabbles? Every freaking day, but arguments? Never. 

Then, there’s the sound of a door slamming. Kiyoomi would wager that it would be Hinata, returning to his room opposite Kiyoomi’s.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.”

“This seems serious. I’ll go check on Shou-kun,” Miya says, all traces of lust completely gone. He moves away from Kiyoomi to reach for his shirt.

Kiyoomi suppresses a frustrated groan. If Kiyoomi hadn’t known about Miya’s obsession with Hinata since their high school days, he might have worried.

Privately, he thinks Miya should take responsibility for getting him in the mood and suddenly blue-balling him, but another part of his is also worried for his teammates. If the Karasuno freak duo aren’t speaking to each other by their bronze medal match…

“I’ll…go to Kageyama’s then,” Kiyoomi says, getting up from the bed.

On the bright side, at least they won’t have to change the sheets tonight.

* * *

**+1 Kageyama Tobio**

Tobio gnaws on his lip, his eyes trained to the floor. Sweat bead at his forehead as he feels two disapproving pairs of eyes boring down on him.

Iwaizumi sighs. “Kageyama—”

“I’m sorry, Iwaizumi-san!” Tobio says for probably the third time. Fingers grasp onto fabric , squeezing hard as if channeling his regret into them. But really, he had no excuse for what he had said to Hinata.

“Like I said, I’m not mad,” Iwaizumi says kindly, but Tobio still feels bad. “But you should probably apologize to Hinata.”

Right. After all, he had just literally accused Hinata of homewrecking Oikawa and Iwaizumi; he didn’t mean to— he was high strung from today when Oikawa all but goaded him after their match, and then he sees his longtime crush and partner cozying up with that same person, and the rest was history. Of course Hinata didn’t take kindly to such accusations, and everyone on the team and their mother knows how in love their athletic trainer is with his Japanese-turned-Argentine boyfriend.

Curse his stupid, jealous brain.

“I don’t know how to,” Tobio mumbles. Hinata and himself have _never_ fought outside of Volleyball, so he doesn’t know how to even start making amends, though he at least knows that he has to.

“Based on what you told us, Hinata should also be expecting an apology, and I would advise you to do so before out match against the US.” Sakusa says, and Tobio almost forgets that he’s here, given how far he’s standing from them. Actually, Tobio doesn’t even know why he’s here, but he doesn’t dare question his upperclassman.

“Sakusa’s right. We need you both in peak condition for that, but regardless of whether we have a game or not, you should go apologize,” Iwaizumi says, and when he uses that no-nonsense tone of his, all Tobio can do is nod submissively. 

So it is after rehearsing his apology in his head over ten times does Tobio dare to go over to Hinata’s room, with Iwaizumi and Sakusa hovering a few meters behind him. While Tobio understands why Iwaizumi would want to get involved, Sakusa isn’t the type to get involved in matters that don’t directly pertain to him.

Trying to ignore the stares directed at him, Tobio decides to just go for it, and raps firmly at Hinata’s door. “H-Hinata! It’s me, um, can we talk?” So overcome with nervousness, Tobio can’t help but stutter, even though he meant to come off as confident but apologetic.

Hinata’s door opens, and Tobio immediately understands Sakusa’s involvement.

“Tobio-kun,” Miya drawls, leaning against the doorway. “What a pleasant _surprise_.” The way he said it implies that he’s not the least bit.

“M-Miya-senpai.” Tobio wishes his tongue would work properly, wishes he could lift his gaze from the floor to face his senpai head-on. But he knows how feral Miya can get when angered, and truth be told, Tobio is scared of him. He knows how fond Miya is of Hinata since their days in the MSBY Black Jackals, and given this situation, Miya is likely out for his blood right now— he’d be lucky if he doesn’t get into a ‘mysterious’ accident the next day.

Behind Miya, Tobio sees another pair of feet coming their way. He doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is.

“Tobio-chan, what do you have to say for yourself?” Oikawa says, saccharine sweet. “Don’t tell me you’re still as emotionally constipated as when you were fifteen?”

Tobio takes his earlier statement back. Miya is practically a pet cat compared to Oikawa. It might be due to his and Oikawa’s rivalry, or the fact that he used to look up to Oikawa—aspired to become as good a player as him, but even now, both as grown adults, Oikawa’s presence still unsettles Tobio.

“O-Oikawa-san…sorry…” Tobio manages. He did indirectly accuse Oikawa of infidelity, so he would at least own up to it.

“Hm? You have to speak up, I can’t hear you.” Oikawa’s tone lilts mockingly, and he takes a step forward, and to Tobio’s dismay, he feels himself tremble. He hopes the two setters don’t sense his fear.

“I’m…sorry…”

“Oh my, what happened to the Tobio-chan that reduced poor Shouyou to tears? If you can’t—”

“ _Tooru.”_

Tension leaves him like a taut string being cut. Tobio looks up to see Iwaizumi beside him, facing his boyfriend, and Tobio could almost kiss him. Iwaizumi had always helped him in middle school, and now in the national team—keeping the team grounded and bonded even if he’s not a player— Iwaizumi remains one of the only people Tobio admires.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Stop bullying Kageyama and let him talk to Hinata,” Iwaizumi says sternly, and he’s using the same voice he uses to tell off Bokuto or Hoshiumi when they get too rowdy. “Miya, you too. Go rest up. Don’t forget that we’re meeting at one tomorrow for stretching.

“But Iwa-chan, he said—”

“I know what he said, and he already apologized for it. Come on, leave them alone,” Iwaizumi beckons with a tilt of his head, casual but stern. Tobio thinks he might be re-developing his senpai crush on Iwaizumi when both Oikawa and Miya begrudgingly step aside to let Tobio into Shouyou’s room.

All hail everyone’s lord and savior, Iwaizumi Hajime.

“For all our sakes and yours, don’t fuck up.” is all Miya says as he follows Sakusa back into his room.

“If you hurt Shouyou again,” Oikawa starts, pointing a threatening finger, “say goodbye to your online reputation.”

“ _Tooru_.” One stern call of his given name, and Oikawa backs down obediently, but not without giving Tobio one last glare.

“Aw, Iwa-chan, you’re no fun…” Tobio hears Oikawa whine just before they go back into Iwaizumi’s room.

Tobio lets out a huge sigh of relief.

Now that the two setter guard dogs are out of the way, Tobio finally enters the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Go away.” A voice sounds from the blanketed lump on the bed.

“Hinata…I didn’t mean it. I was just— I was angry, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

In the silence that ensues, Tobio can practically hear his pulse thunder. He swallows, takes a few steps forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m very sorry,” he says again, lamely.

Finally, to Tobio’s relief, Hinata pokes his orange head out of his blanket burrito.

“Why did you think me and Oikawa-san were…like that?”

Tobio’s mouth goes dry. It is a valid question, but one Tobio couldn’t possibly answer: couldn’t possibly say that he was (irrationally) jealous of his best friend with his nemesis from his teenaged years— that would open a whole new tin of worms that would be best left alone.

“I was irritated with Oikawa-san, and…you just happened to be there. Not that it’s your fault!” Tobio hurriedly adds. “I don’t—I didn’t like seeing you with him.”

Hinata furrows his brows.

Shit. He probably said too much just now.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t like seeing me with Oikawa-san’? We became friends in Brazil, so it’s not strange to hang out with him, like friends do?”

Tobio bites his tongue to prevent the snap response of ‘I don’t like seeing you close with other guys’ because that’s way to possessive even for a boyfriend, let alone a friend. “I-I mean, I know you’re friends, but he and I…he doesn’t…really like me… A-anyways, I don’t really think you’re _like that_ with Oikawa-san, and I apologized to him and Iwaizumi-san, and I hope you won’t be angry with me too.”

Tobio says all this in a garble of words, and when he’s done, he feels like he’s just been in another match. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool air conditioning, and he feels out of breath, like he’s just played another match.

“Okay,” Hinata simply says.

“Okay?” Tobio repeats, not understanding.

Hinata sits up, letting the blanket pool at his hips. “I won’t be angry at you anymore. Actually, more like, I didn’t like that you thought that I was _like that_ with Oikawa-san, even if he wasn’t already with Iwaizumi-san.”

“I didn’t like that thought either,” Tobio blurts before he can stop himself. It takes both he and Hinata by surprise. “Um, what I meant was—”

“You don’t like seeing me with Oikawa-san? Or _with_ Oikawa-san?” Hinata interrupts.

“W-what do you mean by _with_?”

“What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know!”

“Y’know, _together with_ someone romantically, like dating!”

“You, _together with_ Oikawa-san? No way in hell!” Tobio practically shouts, heat rushing to his ears.

“Well obviously, because Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san are dating, he was just asking me—”

“—BecauseIlikeyou!”

“—about proposing…to…” Hinata trails off, and it is in this silence that a Tobio realizes: he fucked up.

“Wha—whatdidyoujustsay?!” Hinata’s face and neck turns bright red. He looks at Tobio, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and Tobio can’t help but fluster.

“I like you, Boke Hinata-boke!” Tobio screams.

“I like you too Bakageyama!” Hinata screams back.

“ _Boke_! Don’t go around saying things like that, people will misunderstand!”

“What part of ‘I like you’ don’t you understand, _Baka_?!”

The are both panting by now, face flushed from both embarrassment and exertion and they are just glaring at each other now, processing what in the world had happened just now…

And then it finally hits Tobio’s brick-brain that Hinata _likes him._

_“_ You mean it?”

Hinata is immediately defensive. “Mean what?”

“That you l-like me back?” Tobio dares to hope. His heart is hammering in his chest, swelling with both hope and trepidation. If Hinata rejects him now, Tobio isn’t sure how they’re going to even progress from then.

“Well yeah. Yeah I do. Like you back, I mean. I like you, as weird as it sounds.” Hinata is rambling, and the confirmation births a warm, fluttery feeling in Tobio’s chest.

“That’s why I got irritated. Because I was jealous of Oikawa-san…” Tobio says openly, feeling oddly vulnerable.

Hinata scoots closer to Tobio and takes his hand in his, presses their shoulders together. Even though they’ve been physically closer than this before, the new shift in their relationship, like a gate finally unlocked, presents a whole new wave of feelings within Tobio, and it’s almost too much to handle.

“You’re stupid. I liked you for a really long time. Even if Oikawa-san is single, I still wouldn’t like him,” Hinata says.

“B-back in Brazil,” Tobio stammers, because now that the issue has been laid out in the open, he _needs_ to know: “when you met with Oikawa-san, did anything happen…between…you two?” He barely manages to get the words out.

“Oh!” Hinata laughs. “Funny enough, I think we were too focused on playing beach to even think about that sorta thing. Besides, Oikawa-san loves Iwaizumi-san too much to even look at anyone else, even though they weren’t together yet.”

“And you?” Tobio blurts. His brain-to-mouth filter has already given up on life at this point . “Did you have anyone you like in Brazil?”

Hinata goes quiet, but Tobio is well-versed enough in reading him to know that he’s just thinking of how to respond.

“Not really,” Hinata says, slightly hesitant. “I don’t think I…Maybe it’s because of you.”

“What?”

Hinata’s eyes dart away from Tobio. “It’s because of you,” he repeats. “I liked you since our senior year.”

Really, what can Tobio do after that other than pull Hinata into a very, very tight hug.

* * *

_The Aftermath_

It is a few weeks into Tobio’s very happy relationship with his longtime crush and best friend, Hinata, and Tobio is over the moon. That is, until he receives a surprise text from Oikawa.

**Oikawa:**

_Congrats on finally getting together with Shouyou!_

_But if you hurt him, you’ll regret it : )_

Tobio swallows his fear, texting a curt but polite ‘thank you, but I won’t’ back to him.

That isn’t the end of this madness. Shortly afterwards, he is pulled aside by Miya Atsumu and Bokuto Koutarou a mere day after the conclusion of the 2021 Olympic Games.

“So Shou-kun told me you and him are officially dating,” Miya says flatly.

“Yes,” Tobio replies with a small smile.

“Hey, congrats but Keiji asked me to tell you to please not to hurt Hinata. I mean, I hope you don’t, because that would be a problem, from both him _and_ me,” Bokuto says, and despite that booming, cheery voice, Tobio hears the underlying warning.

“And me,” Miya adds, not even trying to mask his threat.

“And also Kenma,” Bokuto adds. “Even Kuroo is not spared from the almighty Kodzuken when it comes to Hinata, so expect him to come after you ass if you hurt Hinata.”

“If Shou-kun so much as shed a tear on your behalf, you’re gonna have the four of us to answer to, you clear?” Miya leers, looking very much like a yankee trying to intimidate school kid for their lunch money.

“Y-yes sir!” Tobio squeaks, standing ramrod straight.

“Excellent!” Bokuto claps Tobio on the back. “C’mon, let’s go back to the others.”

“Glad we understand each other,” Miya smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Tobio trails after his two upperclassmen, his limbs shaky with fear, and wonders if he has to hire extra security to fend of his boyfriend’s guard dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s a wrap! I originally started this as a joke, and now am obligated to finish it because the idea just wouldn’t leave my head. In the end, i caved in and wrote it all out. All 10k words, goddamn. I can finally say that I managed to write a completed multi-chaptered fic!!! 
> 
> Thanks y’all for reading, and all Kudos/comments are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Until next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I have 2 ongoing Haikyuu multi-chaptered fics that demand a slice of my attention pie. 
> 
> Am I going to still write this? Yes.


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